


A Snowball's Chance

by GoodJanet



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Extramarital Affairs, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Hotel Sex, Kissing, Love/Hate, M/M, Rivalry, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred doesn't really hate Jack after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fakemagpies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakemagpies/gifts).



“Your behavior on your program last night was low down. Even for you, Benny. ‘Common’ would probably be too generous to use in describing you.”

“And here I thought you liked me low down. I thought it was the whole reason we were here.”

Fred unlocks the door and lets him go in first. Better to bicker inside where prying eyes and keen ears wouldn’t catch them.

“Don’t get cute with me, Jack. Though I’d be surprised if you could manage it. You and I have a very clear arrangement here, and if you’re going to go about getting smart with me, I can easily send for someone else. I wonder what that tenor of yours would say if he were invited back here.”

“Dennis? Ha, that’s a gas! That man has more kids than Bing Crosby! You’re just saying that to make me mad.” 

Jack hangs up his overcoat in the closet and kicks off his shoes, which is a relief. He’s been on his feet all day rehearsing and running around the studio. He shakes his head. Dennis? That was the silliest thing…

Behind him, he hears Fred shedding his outer layers as well. Luckily, they have their own closets. Fred had picked out a nice hotel this time. If only people knew that _he_ was the cheap one.

Fred can tell that Jack is annoyed at his remark and smiles. This was always the way their little game played out. He then removes his necktie with the intent of climbing on to the delicious bed in the middle of the room. He sits against the headboard with a few pillows against his back. He contemplates calling room service for some drinks when Jack interrupts his train of thought.

“‘Someone else,’ he says,” Jack scoffs. He loosens his own tie and walks to the windows. It’s freezing, but the room feels stuffy, and Fred’s barbs weren’t making the environment any cozier. Sometimes he wondered why he even showed up when Fred phoned or wired him. “Downright exhausting.”

“Stop muttering to yourself, Jack. It makes you sound like a mental patient.”

Jack smirks, pleased with himself at succeeding in prompting Fred to lash out. It was no small feat. Even Jack could admit that Fred was much more stoic than he was. 

He gives an indignant, “ _Well_.”

“You and your catchphrases. That might work with an audience, but I’m the only one here, and we both know what I want. We both know what your gaping maw is really good for, and it certainly isn’t comedy.”

From the window, Jack grumbles, “Would it kill you to say please?” 

“Yes,” comes the nasally reply.

He turns around and sees Fred situating himself on the bed. He didn’t want to admit it but he did like Fred, in a way. There was a reason they kept seeing each other, wasn’t there? If they really, truly hated each other, neither of them would be here, would they? Unbidden, Jack goes to him.

Jack stands at the side of the bed, the one furthest from Fred. Any other time, he would already be on Fred’s side, and Fred would already be pawing at him like an animal. Jack always did hope that he was gentler with his wife. She was so sweet and kind. It was better that he experience the more aggressive side of him, he reasons. He always did hate to picture a woman in distress.

“If you’re waiting for an engraved invitation, it’s never going to come.”

“Well, if you don’t shut up, it won’t be the only thing that’s never going to come!”

Miffed, Jack climbs onto the bed and straddles Fred’s still-clothed thighs. They were getting too old for this. Sneaking around was for teenagers, and they both knew they weren’t thirty-nine. Jack looks down at his adversary with curiosity. If he thought about their arrangement long enough, it was almost comical.

“What’s the hold up?” Fred prods.

“I’m just imagining what our sponsors would say if they could see us now.”

Jack grins broadly and then lets out a laugh. It bubbles up out of him and fills the room. It dissipates the tension that had built up inside the room. If anyone else besides Fred had been present, they certainly would have joined him. Jack’s sure of it.

“I’m sure Jell-O would be very interested in knowing the sort of flavors you’re interested in, although I’m sure no one else would be surprised if they ever found out, what with how you sway out onto the stage every Sunday.” 

Jack huffs a disheartened laugh. He places his hands on Fred’s shoulders and shakes his head. “Well, now you’re just being mean.” Jack puts their foreheads together, defeated. 

“We’re rivals, Jack,” Fred gently reminds him, hand running up his side.

“So you really do hate me then, huh?” he asks wistfully, fiddling with Fred’s collar.

Fred sighs. Perhaps “hate” was a strong word. There was a rivalry between them, but there were times they would be together when he would catch Jack looking at him with neither disdain nor contempt. Jack always caught himself before he could decipher what his blue eyes had been trying to convey to him. Then their mouths would meet, and Fred would try to forget the whole thing.

After some consideration, Fred says, “Yes.” 

That was the game they were playing, wasn’t it. He, the angry one, spitting vitriol over Jack’s name and character. Jack, the romantic one, submitting to Fred and trying to wrestle him into a gentler nature. Fred gets the feeling that the game has been changed on him.

“Oh.”

Jack swallows. Somehow hearing it out loud makes him feel a whole lot worse. Jack’s mouth turns down and his brow furrows. Suddenly, Jack won’t meet his eyes. It shouldn’t sadden him, but it does. He lets himself slump against Fred until his head is resting on his shoulder, and Fred gives him a gentle pat, like he would a child.

Getting a rise out of Jack was always fun, and he had assumed Jack enjoyed when he got in his digs. These secret meet ups of theirs had been a wonderful release of all that built up tension after weeks of dragging the other’s name through the mud on screen and over the air, or perhaps even when one of them had bene going through a trying time. Though they often played up the idea that they can’t stand each other, it was hardly sporting to kick a man when he’s down.

“Jack.”

He picks his head from where he had been examining a loose thread on his shirt.

“Care to explain why you’ve gone maudlin on me? I don’t think I need to tell to you how these nights usually go.”

Jack shakes his head. “Please. The last thing I need is Fred Allen fussing over me like a mother hen.”

There’s little bite to his words, so Fred lets it go.

“Does that mean we can proceed now?”

Jack nods and silently undoes his own shirt buttons. It’s so quiet he can hear the ticking of his watch on the end table. Jack wasn’t normally someone who got right down to business; Jack liked the touchy feely moments. Jack doesn’t do anything of the kind tonight.

It comes as a surprise to Fred when he joins their mouths together. But there’s no force behind it. No spirit. Jack’s carrying this out like it was his wifely duty rather than an escape that the two of them could indulge in. Fred stops him.

“What’s the matter?” Jack implores. His baby blues scan his face, as though trying to guess what he had done wrong.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Jack laughs in spite of himself.

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just hate my guts, is all.”

Jack is upon him before he can respond. 

In the aftermath, they lie on the bed, smoking in the half dark.

“I don’t hate you, Jack,” Fred says.

Smoke billows out of his mouth as he says. It makes Jack think of dragons.

“You don’t have to coddle me, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of coddling you.”

Jack watches him tap his ash into the glass dish on the side of the bed.

“Then don’t flatter me,” Jack insists.

“I only say what I mean.”

“So when you say I’m a flatfooted coward, that’s from the bottom of your heart?”

Fred gives a nasally laugh. “You’ll have to learn to take the good with the bad, Jack.”

“Well, I guess I don’t hate you either then.”

“I know.”

“Now that you’ve admitted you don’t hate me, will you please stop telling people I wear a toupee?” Jack asks.

Fred laughs again. “Not a snowball’s chance.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter written especially for fakemagpies! :)

The next time they meet, things go a little bit more smoothly. When Jack poses the idea, it comes across as more friendly than competitive, and their coupling is far less hurried and one-sided. They take their time and make eye contact, whispering the occasional word of encouragement.

Still, there is some awkwardness that comes with the “friends with benefits” territory. They’ve come to realize that some topics are off-limits, namely wives, children, and their respective cast members. A harmless question about Jack’s family slips from his mouth, and he knows he’s going to be in for it. Perhaps rightfully so…

Jack folds up the nightly paper, and Fred knows that they’re in for a talk. One that would most likely be about them and their secret meetings and how it was, once again, weighing on his conscience. Jack never felt comfortable letting himself relax or stop thinking about thing, even with things he enjoyed. One minute he would be dozing or reading peacefully and the next would see him staring at the phone with a thousand yard stare.

“Fred?” Jack says.

Fred puts down his legal pad and fountain pen and looks over to Jack’s side of the bed, where Jack had his own notes and scripts strewn about.

“What’s the matter?”

Something had to be the matter or else Jack wouldn’t be worrying his lower lip like that. It appeared that Jack had given up on his own work a while ago in favor of brooding over whatever it was that had him preoccupied.

“Do you think anyone suspects?”

Suddenly the hotel bedspread becomes very interesting to him, and he picks at a loose thread while waiting for Fred to answer.

“I’m confident that no one would assume I’d share a meal with you, let alone a bed.”

“You don’t think we do this too often?”

“Jack, if this is causing you this much strife, you can call it quits. It’s no skin off my nose.”

Jack chews on the side of his thumbnail. “Doesn’t that leave you high and dry?”

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I have a social and professional life that extends far past what you have to offer me. It would simply be a matter of putting my feelers out and starting over. If I remember correctly, you didn’t take much courting.”

“Why I never!” Jack exclaims. “You make it sound as though you blew a whistle, and I ran to your side like some dumb mutt.”

Fred laughs in that funny way of his, and Jack smiles. He always got a sense of pride of getting a laugh out of the acerbic man at his side. Fred knew this, too.

“You like being my mutt. Sure, I could find someone else, but you’re already trained, aren’t you.”

Jack notices that it’s not a question. If the way Fred was looking at him was any indication, that was supposed to be a subtle come on. Jack licks his lips, thinking it over. Perhaps he really was under Fred’s command. Perhaps it should bother him more than it did.

“Fred, I…”

Fred grabs his hand and pulls him closer, and Jack lets himself be pulled. Soon, Fred is kissing him soundly, and all his guilt and shame and worry flies out the window as his senses take over.

Later, after picking up a flurry of papers off of the floor, they rest comfortably on the bed, side by side. It felt good to forget the world for an hour. It was never like that at home. It was always, “Is that nice, dear?” Followed by a lukewarm smile and a neutral nod. It was always a nearly silent affair that left him feeling like something was missing, no matter how much he truly loved his wife.

“You wanna know something?” Jack asks.

Fred replies with a, “This had better be good, Benny,” but with no venom behind it.

Jack gives a soft chuckle. Their friendship would be boring without their feud, but the same could be said for the other way around.

“I think I like you. A little.”

He adopts that “shy little boy” face he gets when he’s revealing something important. He usually uses it to play something off as a joke, but his blushing face and down-turned eyes tell a different story.

Fred relents, smiles. “Alright, so you cracked the icy layer around my heart. That doesn’t mean we should go running to the papers, you know.”

Jack leans over and kisses Fred’s cheek.

“I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh, shut up!”

“You shut up, Benny.”

“I’d like to see you make me!”

Fred cocks his head to the side as he tries to discern how serious Jack was being. He smirks.

“I will,” he says. “But you might moan a little.”

Jack looks into the corner of the closet mirror to see Fred sitting on the hotel bed behind him. Fred had let his legs sprawl open in a blatantly suggestive way. He looked so damn sure of himself, too, and Jack didn’t like that one bit. He then throws his tie to the floor and turns around to throw down a challenge he knows Fred won’t refuse:

“I’d like to see you try, brother.”

Fred leans back in his own brazen, challenging and pats the empty space next to him. Jack already feels himself drawn to the spot, drawn to Fred. Cooking up that feud of theirs was the best damn idea either of them had ever had. Jack already felt himself getting hard at the idea.

“Why don’t you come put your money where your mouth is?” Fred says.

Jack was already angrily undoing his dress shirt—his shoes and jacket had long since been discarded—and he was climbing onto the bed in no time. It was exactly what Fred had wanted from him in the first place. Jack swings his leg over Fred’s hips and pins Fred’s shoulders to the mattress.

Fred laughs and realization dawns on Jack’s face. He had barely needed any coaxing at all, and Jack feels his face heat. Oh, he was so _shameless/_

“I played you like a fiddle.”

“I’ll get you for that. Just you wait!”

And, before Fred can get any more words in edgewise, Jack was devouring his mouth. Fred’s hands come up to grip his hips before they travelled up Jack’s ribs and then into the loose halves of Jack’s shirt before they stop, for a moment, on the sides of Jack’s face. Jack’s skin was very soft, and he smelled like Old Spice and tobacco and Mary’s perfume.

“You drive me crazy, you know that? I go nuts when I’m around you,” Jack pants, pulling away from their kiss.

Fred thinks he could say the same, but all his blood and wits have gone south, so he tells himself he’ll tell Jack all about it later. In the meantime, Fred’s hands were making quick work of Jack’s belt and zipper, much to Jack’s delight. He reaches a hand inside. 

Jack bites his lip and moans softly.

“Now, now you have to let me get out of these clothes first,” Jack insists. “I don’t want a repeat of last month.”

Reluctantly, Fred removes his hands and begins working open the buttons of his own shirt for removal.

“I thought we had a fine time last month. I don’t seem to remember you complaining, which is a first.”

Jack shot him a look before tossing his shirt and trousers off into a corner of the room. Fred had picked a rather nice room this time, but they had yet to enjoy any of the amenities. He wondered if there were any sandwiches already made in the ice box…

“Am I keeping you from something, Mr. Benny?”

Jack’s head whips back around, and Fred secretly finds the way his fingers rest loosely against his lips and chin endearing.

“Oh, I was just—”

“Alright, now let’s not pretend you’re some waifish flower whose petals I’ve bruised. You were off thinking about your stomach just when things were getting good here.”

Jack sticks his tongue out.

“You’re insufferable,” Fred declares before pulling him down for another kiss.

Jack moans into his mouth, and Fred reminds himself to gloat about his success later.

“Can we proceed now?”

Jack nods his head, grinning like a fool. Fred finds it to be infectious.

“Yes!” Jack declares. “The sandwiches can wait.”


End file.
